If You Like Peanut Butter and Jelly You Might be a Racist

“If you believe you got a set of matched luggage when you have two shopping bags from the same store, you might be a redneck.”

“If you think the last words to The Star Spangled Banner are ‘Gentlemen, start your engines,’ you might be a redneck.”

“If you think Sherlock Holmes is a housing project down in Biloxi, Mississippi, you might be a redneck.”

I thought about coming up with a “you might be a racist if” routine. After thinking about it for awhile, I’m sure someone would say, “If you tell ‘you might be a racist’ jokes, you might be a racist.” So switching careers is just not in the cards or stars until stupid people stop breeding and infecting the gene pool.

“Verenice Gutierrez picks up on the subtle language of racism every day. Take the peanut butter sandwich, a seemingly innocent example a teacher used in a lesson last school year.

“‘What about Somali or Hispanic students, who might not eat sandwiches?’ says Gutierrez, principal at Harvey Scott K-8 School, a diverse school of 500 students in Northeast Portland’s Cully neighborhood.

“‘Another way would be to say: “Americans eat peanut butter and jelly, do you have anything like that?” Let them tell you. Maybe they eat torta. Or pita.’”

To ensure that there are no tinges of overt or subconscious racist thoughts, words, or actions, “Guitierrez, along with all of Portland Public Schools’ principals, will start the new school year off this week by drilling in on the language of ‘Courageous Conversations.’”

Their time would be better spent teaching their students to read, write, add subtract, divide, and multiply, and speak well in order to help them get good jobs so they can buy peanut butter, jelly, torta, and pita.

Who frequents ethnic restaurants more than any other group in the United States? White people! Go to your favorite Chinese, Mexican, Thai, or Cuban restaurant, and what will you find? The seats loaded with people from all types of national backgrounds. Americans love ethnic food and don’t care one whit who’s cooking and serving it.

I grew up in an ethnically diverse neighborhood and never thought someone else was being “insensitive to my Italian heritage” because some of my German friends ate knockwurst or “pigs in a blanket.”